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**Prologue** Dragons and kings do not usually form alliances, both being such symbols of power. Power tends to corrupt even the noblest of souls in trying times, and self-preservation becomes tainted with greed. Nevertheless, there once was a place where a dragon of evil repute allied with a young king for the power to change a world forever. Far away from here, beyond the furthest reaches of the imagination, lay a world much like our own, with a few notable exceptions: Kryteka, as it was called, was a world of magic. Not crackerjack box magic, but real magic. There, fairies and elves were common sights in the woods, dwarves and gnomes built marvellous underground cities, and witches and warlocks dueled with the Arcane Arts, in awe-inspiring displays of color, light, sound and power. There wasn't much in the way of technology; electricity had yet to be invented, running water existed to serve only the nobles or those that could afford it, and people traveled by horseback, wagons or on foot, though it was rumored that the gnomes were working on a "mechanical horse" that ran by itself. And, oh yes...there were dragons. Red ones, black ones, green ones...they came in a rainbow of colors and personalities, and they watched through the long centuries as the world around them evolved while they stayed as they had always been. Not all of them were the evil serpents that most people believed. The white, silver, gold and brass dragons for example, were known to the sages to be wise and virtuous, but their numbers had diminished greatly in the past century because their females had become increasingly sterile. Many of the wizards and scientists speculated that it was caused by some dark curse, perhaps even "dragon magic" worked by some of the more powerful evil dragons. And of all the evil dragons known in Kryteka, none was so feared as the mighty, ancient wyrm Raximmon the Red. |
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Raximmon's plan included traveling, and since his disguise depended upon his credibility as a barbarian sell-sword, he decided that he needed a fine steed to carry him. Preferably a large war stallion, bred for battle and stamina. And for such a fine animal, he needed to travel west, through Brastiva and towards the castle. Brastiva was a fair-sized city and was perfect for Raximmon's needs. There was a large, open-air market in the town's circle every Moneday. The market was one of the city's main currency veins. Anything that money could buy could usually be found within the circle; foods, clothing, weapons and crafts tents and stands crowded together like so many fluttering, opening flowers, and the people milled about like ants. <o:p></o:p> Raximmon did not want to reveal more about himself than necessary to anyone who might think him a threat, therefore he needed to be able to change his appearance quickly if there was trouble, at least while in town. He decided a metamorph spell would suffice. Before he left his lair and locked the spell gates, he gathered a large, magically warded backsack off one armory rack. He packed it full of platinum and gold and set a spell on all of it to make it appear empty to anyone examining it. There were a few barbarian skeletons in his lair, and Raximmon studied their clothing before taking several pieces to adorn himself. He strapped a set of lightweight, elven mithril chain mail under his deerskin tunic and rabbit-fur and leather loincloth. He also slipped a thick, shaggy silver worg-pelt over his intimidating shoulders. He plaited his fiery hair into a long, single braid at the back and even took the time to put a few smaller braids into his bushy, red beard. His right hand was scarred and still throbbed some from the fang's wound, but he decided it wouldn't matter if people asked -- he could use it as an excuse to brag about his prowess as a fighter, as all barbarians were known to do. He finished his attire with a high pair of black suede and leather moccandi boots. The rawhide laces were tough and durable, and the boots themselves were enchanted against weathering. He strapped Craven to his waist and as he began to leave, the sword made a suggestion. "Why don't you spell-lock that crack, too? Since the boy got away--" There was a hint of smugness in the sword's voice and Raximmon cut him off abruptly. "-- He did not 'get away' as you so impudently imply," snarled the huge man. "He was rescued, I think, by those meddlesome, thieving gnomes." Rax began walking towards the opening in the wall, frowning at it as he went. "I was only pointing out --" the sword began. "-- I know what you meant, Craven, and I was already planning on it. If they try to enter here uninvited again, they'll have a nasty surprise waiting for them." Rax quickly chanted the spell to seal his lair from anyone, then turned to face westwards. He mumbled another few arcane syllables and in the blink of an eye, he was gone. His dimensional slide transported him directly outside of Brastiva's Eastern Gate, where he nearly trampled one of the surprised city guards who had seen him materialize out of thin air. The guard spluttered and fell over himself trying to simultaneously get out of Raximmon's way and look properly dignified. He adjusted his steel helmet and unsheathed his short sword, pointing it at Raximmon's chest, thinking, this man looks uncivilized, he might not understand authority. He cleared his throat and tried to keep a steady gaze on Raximmon. |
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"State your name and business in Brastiva...please," the man said. Raximmon smiled charmingly at the guard, showing a full set of gleaming white teeth below his heavy, red moustache. The guard couldn't have been more than twenty summers, standing only as high as Raximmon's broad chest, and he was trying desperately to appear older and battle-ready. "Relax, my friend," Raximmon told the young man in calming tones. "I mean no harm to you or anyone else here. I am but a warrior in search of a horse for myself and," he said, putting an arm around the guard and winking slyly. "A little 'female' entertainment, if you know what I mean." The soldier visibly relaxed and blushed bright red at Raximmon's suggestion. The other three men at arms were looking over at their friend, nudging each other and raising questioning brows at his large "friend". Geoff waved them away. This big oaf wouldn't be any trouble. "I'm glad to hear that you won't be causing us any trouble, sir, but you still haven't told me your name. And as I recall," the young man asked Raximmon. "Aren't your people afraid of magic? The reason I ask--" "--I know," interrupted Rax quickly. "You saw me appear from nowhere." The dragon smiled disarmingly at Geoff again and began to walk towards the gate with his arm still draped about the youth's shoulders. "I have a good friend that works magic. He said it was the only way to travel," he laughed. "And now, I think he must be right. My name, by the way, is Rax. I come from the mountains yonder," he said, waving his hand in a vague direction behind him. "And what might your name and rank be, soldier? I'd like to praise your commanding officer on your performance," he said smoothly, pulling a gold piece from the sack at his side. Geoff's eyes grew larger, and Rax then assumed he wouldn't have any trouble with the guards during his brief stay in Brastiva. When he saw he had the young man's attention, he deftly flipped the coin around and between his fingers, making it sparkle and appear to walk across the back of his hand. He also wove a small charm spell that instantly made Geoff his friend, and at the same time allowed him access to the guard's thoughts. The poor boy never had a chance; dragon magic, as you must know, is the purest, most powerful form of magic. Dragons are magical creatures by nature. It is a part of their very existence, much the same way that breathing is a part of ours. It is instinct, and most dragons, be they good or evil, understand, study and perfect the instinct to an artform. And Raximmon was one of the best at it. He grinned at Geoff and handed him the coin. "Thank you, my small friend. I must be going, however, if I am to make it to the horses before dark," he said glancing at the setting sun. "Of course," the charmed man smiled. He looked slightly dazed, but normal. That was good. But then he quickly straightened and snapped a salute, looking behind Raximmon as his superior officer walked towards them both. Rax had, of course, heard the man approach. That was not so good. Rax wasn't used to "thinking on his feet" as the saying went, but he knew enough about humanoids that he could easily persuade, bargain with or elude them if necessary. |
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Raximmon turned around slowly, expecting to come face to pate with an older human warrior, but was astonished to see a morphling in uniform. He had thought all morphlings were extinct. Surprising indeed. This one was part ogre, dwarfing even Rax's imposing figure. Raximmon guessed the man's true nature by his eyes, however. All morphlings shared one tell-tale trait that gave them away every time; blood red irises surrounding a solid black pupil. The shape of the eyes and the pupil depended upon the mix of morph; some were reptilian and feline slitted, while others were more human or lupine in appearance. This Captain's pupils were round and openly expressed curiosity. Rax thought he detected a lupine scent and could see traces of silvery hair at the tips of the man's wide, pointed, ogrish ears. The commanding officer was studying the worg pelt across Rax's broad shoulders with a definite look of distaste. "At ease, soldier," the morphling said to Geoff. He gave Raximmon's large frame a once-over and tilted his head slightly to one side. "I am Slagus Gorth, High Commander of the Nine Elite, in service to Brastiva," he introduced himself, crossing muscled arms over his own, barrel-like chest. "Who are you and why have you come to Brastiva?" Raximmon narrowed his eyes, then suddenly broke into another huge grin."Well met, Captain Gorth," said the dragon, noting the man's rank. "I am Rax, from the lands surrounding Ridgeshadow." Gorth continued to stare, trying to gauge the powerful-looking human before him. He was obviously a barbarian, and while he sported no clan tattoos, the worg skin on his shoulders and the blatant scar on his right hand indicated prowess in battle. The man also seemed very much at ease with the large, unusual sword belted at his waist. "What tribe are you from?" Slagus asked directly. Raximmon struggled for a moment to recall the names of the various barbarian clans around his home when he had last been awake. Craven saved him by telepathically supplying a name. Raximmon stepped closer to the giant morphling. "Isn't that obvious?!" he spat, feigning offense at the Captain's suspicious tone. "I am RAX, of the mighty Wolf Clan! I am a great hunter and an even greater warrior, and any who doubt me may challenge me and DIE!" He pounded his chest with a massive bicep as if to accentuate the point. Slagus had not moved an inch during Raximmon's outburst, and merely regarded him coldly. Rax couldn't have possibly known it, but Captain Gorth knew some of the members of the Wolf Clan personally, and he was certain that "Rax" had never been mentioned. Slagus was not stupid, though his ogre heritage had often fooled people into believing such a deadly assumption. He suspected that the man was lying to him, and his keen senses told him that the man's smell was wrong. He considered denying the barbarian access to the city, but then his attention was drawn to the platinum coin that Raximmon was deftly flipping across one hand. Raximmon wove another charm spell and watched in delight as the Captain's eyes glazed over. "Captain Gorth, should we not be friends?" he asked with a smile. "I am sure it could be a most profitable arrangement. Yes, most profitable," he purred. "I am only here to purchase a few things and then I will be on my way. I will make no trouble for you." Slagus dreamily eyed the platinum piece. He was not a stupid man, even though he was part ogre. "Sure, okay. Give me the money and you can go in. But no trouble..." he started to frown as he said the last sentence, and Rax swiftly produced another dancing coin. "Thank you, Captain. Now, my friend, I will be on my way," Rax said, moving through the eastern gate to the city. He wasn't challenged again and an evil smirk formed on his human features. Raximmon wasn't stupid, either. |
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*** Chapter 4 *** Jessep had of course been taught good manners, and he knew it was rude to stare, but he couldn't help it. He had never seen people like these before. At least he thought they were people. They approached him slowly, hands wide to indicate peaceful intentions. "You man. We be Firbles," said the one in front in halting Falvarian. "We save you from Big Red One. You make him angry. Why?" Jessep looked confused and defeated. His head throbbed and his words felt thick. "Thank you," he said. "For saving me, I mean. I am Prince Jessep Medrellan. I came here to convince Raximmon to keep his promise. It made him mad," he finished quietly. "Dragon very, very bad! Firbles not go back for little time. Jes-sep," said one of the small men, trying to pronounce his name. The Firble in front grabbed Jessep's hand and started to examine it closely, bringing it so close to his bulging eyes that it seemed he would kiss the prince's fingers. "You prince?" he asked, having caught the title and knowing what it meant. He licked the prince's hand and Jessep quickly pulled it back. Then seeing the hurt look on his newfound friend's face Jessep tried to smile despite the pain in his head. "Yes," he sighed. "I'm the prince. But I don't feel so well right now." At the moment, since he had discovered that he still lived, he wanted nothing more than to sink back down to the cool stone and let the darkness reclaim him. The Firbles weren't about to give him that luxury, however. The one who had spoken to him first reached out and gently tugged at his jerkin. "Me Nahd. These stone brothers. Come now," he said. "It not be safe here. We go to far back under tunnels. We rest there." Nahd signalled the other three with him, and kept pulling at Jessep, trying to get him to his feet. Jessep winced at the sudden throb he felt in his skull as he tried to stand. He felt dizzy, but remained upright, albeit shakily. He took a deep breath. "Okay," he said, half to himself. "Okay, just go slow so I can keep up." They began to skip down the natural crevice and only Nahd's clicks and whistles of his native tongue kept them from hopping too far out of sight. Jessep managed to shuffle and let the limestone wall support one outstretched hand. He realized with sudden wonder that the Firbles' hair gave off a very soft, subtle glow. He started to shake his head in quiet amazement, then became conscious of the movement and stopped. As he slowly followed Nahd and the rest of them, he reached back to gingerly probe the base of his head. His fingers came away sticky and he could feel a large knot forming. The rest of his body felt like one giant bruise, but he didn't feel like anything was broken. He mentally thanked the Gods for his dumb luck. The truth was that some of the fang's magic had transferred to him, recognizing him as being of Giroux's bloodline, and that Jessep was in dire need at the time. The magic that had leapt from the fang at the moment it struck Raximmon had shielded Jessep somewhat from the otherwise surely fatal drop. He had a mild concussion, some scrapes and bruises, but other than that, the boy was fine. But Jessep didn't know that, and far from home and in pain, he felt tears prick his eyes. His plan had failed, and now the dragon would probably burn...the castle! His heart began to pound in time with his head. He had to get home and warn them all if he was able. "Hey!" he sobbed. "Nahd!" The Firble turned back, some seven or so feet ahead. He regarded Jessep with his large, unblinking eyes. "Jes-sep," he said. "What wrong? Why you eyes funny wet?" Jessep gulped and tried to slow his fear-stricken heart. "I have to get back to the castle! I have to warn them! He'll burn them all! Oh nooo, no, noooo!" he cried, wracked with guilt. His small shoulders shook with his panicked sobs, as he struggled to quicken his pace. "I have to get back! Please help me, Nahd! Please!" Nahd came back and put one small, hairy hand in Jessep's and patted the other one on top of it. "No be afraid, prince. We help you go home." He tugged on Jessep's jerkin again to hurry him along and gave a small half-smile. Jessep tried to smile back, but his frantic mind could only conjure images of a burning castle and a very old, very angry red dragon....... |
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* * * * * * * * * Most of Shalgathra's eggs arrived at their correct destinations. There were some, however, that were lost in the magical rifts opened by the power of the magic that carried them. And one, in particular, a former copper dragon, was transported back to the lofty mountainside nest where it was laid. The egg clutch had shifted during its absence, and the egg was unbalanced when it gently plopped back to the nest. The mother dragon was asleep and didn't notice as it slowly rolled off the edge of the nest and began to wobble down the mountainside. The only thing that saved it as it rolled off of a small, rocky precipice was the Thorn River, some twenty feet below. It splashed heavily into the water and sank for a moment. The current of the Thorn this far North was still strong with mountain snow runoff, and the egg was soon floating and rushing towards an uncertain future. The roiling water battered the egg, but it didn't crack. It rushed over submerged stones, but still it didn't crack. The female dragonet inside had awakened from the bumpy ride and was innately using magic to protect herself. This one could not see what was happening to her, but she felt threatened and had mentally raised a weak life-shield around her body and the egg. It was not uncommon for dragon hatchlings to use some of their innate abilities, but this one hadn't even hatched! The ride eventually became smoother, and the young dragon began to concentrate on breaking out of the egg. The shell was a natural boat, and the dragonet's body added weight for ballast. She finally cracked a hole in the top and drew back to rest a moment. Normally, her mother would have been there to make the whole process easier, but without her, she had to hammer her soft, tender beak against the shell to even crack it. She drew a breath of fresh air from the small hole she had made and began to try and widen it. The dragonet managed to shift and wedge a couple of tiny talons in the break and then pushed with her snout. The egg hit a sharp rock then, hard, and the shell finally gave way from the impact. The baby began to struggle and twist to free herself, and managed to finally slide out of the egg-boat. Then she discovered water. There are only a few types of dragons that can truly swim. Copper dragons are, unfortunately, not known for it. But Shalgathra and Gnartagien's magic had warped the hatchlings, and this particular baby had grown a dark webbing between its toes, possibly an effect from the black dragon's spell. And when she struggled to paddle, she managed to swim. The current was still too swift, though, and she began to tire. She was in the middle of a narrower leg of the river, some thirty feet wide from bank to bank. With her keen dragon sight, she spotted a tree limb stretching out across the water and made a desperate lunge for it with her neck. The limb was several feet above the water, but she managed to leap high enough to catch it in her sore mouth. She winced and growled from the pain, but hung on with determination and clawed at the branch with her forefeet. She got an unsteady grip and tried to pull herself along to reach the shore. It was slow going and the baby had to fight the current the entire way, but through sheer perseverance and force of spirit, she made the soft, gradual mud of the riverbank. She pulled her small frame most of the way out of the water and collapsed, sides heaving noisily. Her first adventure had proven to be too much for the dragonet and she fell deeply asleep still wondering at this strange, new world.... |
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* * * * * * * * * Jessep tried to keep up with Nahd and his friends. He really did. But the pain in his head and the fear in his heart conspired against him and he had to stop to catch his breath frequently. Nahd had slowed the group of Firbles considerably, but they were, by nature, quick creatures. And they knew the tunnels they were traveling, unlike Jessep. The prince tried to keep their softly glowing forms in sight, but the strain on his eyes only made his head hurt worse. He stopped again to catch his breath for just a moment and closed his brown eyes. The stone of the tunnel was cool on his cheek as he leaned against it, and when he opened his eyes again he found himself alone in the darkness. Nahd and his group were gone. Fearing that he would become lost and die down in the bowels of the mountain, he stumbled forward and onward, trying to catch up to the small band of strange creatures. He again kept his right hand against the tunnel wall to keep some kind of bearing and called out, "Nahd! Nahd, where are you?! I can't see!" He listened for a moment and it seemed to him that he could hear the distant clicking and whistling of the Firble's native language. "Here!" he cried. "I'm over here!" Jessep began to move faster, calling "Nahd! Help me, I'm here!" Suddenly, he slipped, cracking his already aching head again, and then was sliding quickly downwards on his back. The rock around him was slick and wet, worn smooth from years of running water. There was a loud, rushing thunder in his ears and his fingers and feet scrabbled to find purchase on anything to stop his descent. He was sliding down a natural stone chute and soon discovered the source of the constant roaring around him: an underground river. His mind just had time to register this fact when he was plunged into the icy, roiling black water and swept along at a terrifying pace. He could see nothing and began to panic. He couldn't tell which direction was up and his lungs began to burn from the lack of air. He cried out in fear, loosing a few bubbles of the precious oxygen. That's it, then, he thought. I'm going to drown. He almost gave in to despair then, and was about to just let it all go, and then he was falling and there was light. The river still tossed him like a doll, but Jessep knew how to swim, and he swam for all he was worth towards the light. He broke the surface and took in great gulps of air, swallowing some water too, in the process. He choked and gagged, trying to stay afloat. Jessep gasped again and tried to focus on not drowning. The river's current was strong and constantly threatened to pull his small frame under again. It was almost as if the river were a large predator, intent on claiming him as prey. The prince continued to struggle, swimming hard for a shoreline he could barely see through the turbulent water. His right side hit a sharp rock and he felt and heard something break inside of him. He cried out in pain and instantly swallowed more water. Spitting and gulping, he desperately looked around for anything to aid him. He spied a long tree branch hanging over the water ahead and swam for it with the last of his flagging strength. Jessep managed to grab onto it and held tightly as the current threatened to rip him away. "Help!" he cried weakly. "Please someone...help!" He knew that there was probably no one in the area, no one would hear him over the voice of the river, but he continued to call out as loudly as he could. His hands were becoming cramped from holding onto the branch and he felt his grip start to weaken. His body was growing numb from the cold of the water and he knew he was going to die. Jessep finally gave in and bowed his head as his fingers slipped from the tree limb. He had passed into unconsciousness and so did not feel the strong pull on his jerkin that brought him to rest on a small, muddy bank of the river. One covered with baby dragon tracks. |
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* * * * * * * * * She had heard him calling for help. That was why she had come back to the muddy embankment. She didn't know what kind of creature Jessep was; she'd never seen a human before. Somehow, however, she knew instinctively that he was young like her, so she had stretched her neck out as far as she possibly could and grabbed his vest. Then she pulled him to the safety of solid ground, most of the way out of the water before she began to sniff him all over. What strange scents! She could smell the warm blood running beneath his skin, could hear his heart beating. For some reason, this made her hungry. The hatchling hadn't eaten anything since she had awakened some six hours ago. She had tried to eat some of the thick vegetation and berries along the riverbank, but they weren't filling. As she examined Jessep, she began to salivate and her stomach rumbled noisily. Here was something she could eat! The baby dragon tentatively flicked out her tongue to taste the blood that was seeping from a wicked gash in his head. The taste was pleasing to her and she began to lick his head in earnest, her long, forked tongue a bit rough against his skin. He groaned loudly at the touch and she sprang back, afraid. Jessep opened his eyes and groaned again. He wasn't sure where he was but he could feel the rush of water over his boots and lower legs and groggily lifted his head. He was lying in the mud and his whole body ached, especially his right side. His head was hurting more than it had before, too, and he began to lay it back down in the mud. But then he noticed the dragonet who was eyeing him warily from a few feet away. Jessep squinted and blinked to make sure he was actually seeing what his brain registered. A baby dragon? Am I in a dragon's nest then? He struggled to understand where the Fates had delivered him and decided he had better get up, if he could, and look around. He put his hands in the mud and pushed himself slowly to a semi-sitting position. The pain in his right side was throbbing and it hurt Jessep to breathe. Keeping one eye on the dragonet he gently pulled up his jerkin to examine his side. His eyes widened when he saw the large, purplish bruise forming and noticed a strange knob of flesh that hadn't been there before. Gritting his teeth and wincing, he touched it hesitantly with a light fingertip, tracing the shape. He was no healer, but he suspected he had broken a rib or two. The Prince looked up at the baby dragon again. Had it saved him? He wondered. He remembered trying to swim and holding on to a treelimb for dear life, but could remember nothing after that. He noticed that the dragonet was very young, small even for a hatchling. And then another thought occurred to Jessep, freezing the blood in his veins -- where was its mother? He quickly scanned the mud and vegetation around him for signs that this dragonet wasn't alone but saw only the small tracks. Surely this one has a mother nearby, he thought uneasily. He studied it more carefully and noticed that it lacked the typical head-horns behind its eyes, marking it as a female instead of a male. She had beautiful, copper-colored scales with unusual black tips and regarded him with bright, inquisitive, leaf-green eyes. She stood about three and a half feet high from her feet to her shoulders and looked as if she weighed no more than a little over a hundred pounds. Jessep struggled to remember what he had learned about dragons in his studies. His friend and tutor, Rawlins, had made him study the castle's only book on dragons for weeks. It was a large, scientific tome, penned in a dry, boring voice but with marvelous illustrations. The pictures had captured the boy's interest but the text had not. Now Jessep wished he had paid more attention. All he could tell about this young dragon was that she was female and newly hatched. She looked like a copper dragon, except for the black tips on her scales and the black coloring around her muzzle. Seeing that Jessep was paying attention to her, she gave a small, hoarse bark at him. She inched a little closer and barked again. Jessep nervously looked around, terrified that the baby was calling her mother. But after a few minutes, when no large, angry mother dragon appeared, he relaxed a little. "Well," he said to her, trying to find his voice again. "I guess you're on your own, too. Like me." The young man got to his feet, keeping slouched so that he wouldn't injure his side further. He knew he had to somehow find a healer to examine him soon. Out here in the middle of...Gods only know where? Luck to you. Jessep stubbornly pushed the sarcastic thoughts away and looked around for a large stick to use as a temporary crutch. He found a suitable branch not far away. The dragonet followed him, keeping a short distance behind and then chirped at him curiously. |
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"You can come with me for now," Jessep told her, not expecting her to understand. He moved with care, breathing shallowly and searching for an animal trail or anything that might lead him to a road or civilization. He found a small deer path and began to hobble along it, the dragonet always a few feet behind him. His progress was achingly slow and after only an hour he had to stop and rest. The baby stopped with him, sitting patiently on her haunches and watching him with interest. "Well," said Jessep. "I guess I'd better give you a name if you're gonna come with me." He studied her again, temporarily forgetting his aches and pains as he marveled at her beauty. He had never been so close to a baby dragon before. He had seen some, of course, in the small peddlers' fairs that traveled the lands. But those were always kept in cages and looked sickly and unkempt. This one was different. She shone with a vitality he couldn't describe. Maybe it's just the fact that she's wild and free, he wondered. In the afternoon sunlight that dappled the forest floor her copper scales gleamed. "That's it," he said with a snap of his fingers. "I'll call you Gleam. Because you do, ya know." The dragonet cocked her head, chirped once and moved a little closer to him. Jessep's stomach rumbled loudly and Gleam sprang back, startled again. Jessep had to laugh, but it hurt. "Sorry, little one. I'm just hungry. I guess we'd better keep going and maybe we'll find some berries or mushrooms...or something." He carefully got the branch under his arm and boosted himself to a crouch. Jessep studied the forest around him, praying against hope that he would somehow recognize something. But nothing looked familiar. He sighed and started limping along, baby dragon in tow. By evening the deer path he had been following had disappeared completely and turned back into woods. Jessep felt tears threaten as he realized he would probably die there in the wild, knowing that some hunter or tracker would find his bones eventually. |
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While Jessep was wandering in the forests of Falvaria with his new-found friend, Nahd and his brothers had discovered the prince's absence and it sent their small leader into quite an agitated state. "We lose prince!" Nahd said miserably for the twentieth time since noticing Jessep's disappearance. The poor gnome was standing with his oversized head in his hands, sullen with guilt. The worry and remorse for what might have happened to the boy were apparent in his large, luminescent eyes, and he began to pace up and down the tunnel again, darting uncertain glances at the others. Brrrith, one of his many younger brothers, moved to intercept Nah'd path and laid a comforting hand on his bony shoulder. "It be okay, Nahd. No one know him even here, no one blame us for him being gone. See? It be okay." Nahd stopped pacing and regarded Brrrith. He frowned and shook his head. "How you know no one know him even here?" he asked. "We know him here, he no say no one else know him here, so how you know?" Not being one of the brighter brothers, Brrrith only gave him a blank look and shrugged. Nahd began to pace again nervously. The other gnomes watched and shuffled their hairy feet, not understanding why Nahd was so upset. Many of them figured the prince had simply gotten bored and left. Finally Nahd stopped pacing again and turned to the others, his mind made up. "We must go see man-king and tell him," he said. The eyes of his brothers nearly popped from their large sockets at the crazy idea. No one from their clan had ever gone to see the man-king, and many humans of the land didn't even know the gnomes existed, which suited them just fine. They had lived their secretive lives inside the mountains for centuries and enjoyed not being involved in the troublesome affairs of men. Their were even laws guarding the secret of their existence, passed down from one generation to another. It had never actually been stated what would happen to the person who broke that law, but then, no one had ever questioned it either. And now their brother proposed to end their solitude and expose them to the land's highest ranking authority! It was unheard of, and they immediately screeched their dismay. "No! Don't see king!" one cried. "It not worth them to know about us!" shouted another. "What you thinking, Nahd?! Law says no man to know we here, not even man-king!" |
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Nahd couldn't help but hear them with his large, round ears, but their arguments didn't sway him. He crossed his thin, gangly arms over his chest and rested them atop his small pot belly. Setting his pale lips in a determined line, he looked at them and waited for their objections to subside. In a few moments, seeing that Nahd was simply staring at them, they all became quiet again, though they still shook their bobbly heads and wrung their wrinkly hands. "Me know why you mad and sad," Nahd told them. "Me know laws from long-time past, but some men know of us already. They good men, and man-king is good man, too, me think." He slowly walked up and down the smooth floor of the tunnel, looking into each of their faces as he spoke, keeping his arms crossed and tucked against him defensively. "But prince sick. Him hurt from Big Red One and him might need our help." His brother Furrrd stopped him with an upraised hand. "What if him just be bored and leave?" he challenged Nahd. "You risk all us gnomes for one small man. Nahd not be smart to do this." Furrrd raised his pointy chin defiantly and puffed out his little chest, feeling proud that he could say what the rest of them were thinking. Nahd scowled and seemed to get angry, which was a rare sight to the others. "You think him just get bored and leave?! Him not know under tunnels like us! Him not know way out! No, him lost, Furrrd. And me feel bad for losing him." Poor Nahd. He gave a heavy sigh, knowing that what Furrrd said about the risks made sense. His small shoulders slumped a little and he turned away from all of them, deep in thought. His wrinkly brow furrowed and after a few minutes he looked back at his brothers, nodding slowly. "Then Nahd will go," he told them. "Small man be prince. Maybe Nahd get gold reward for helping, maybe not, but Nahd is going." With that said, the group's leader stubbornly walked away from them towards the underground city of Gnamtahn where all the gnomes dwelt. His brothers had no choice but to shuffle-hop behind him, shaking their wobbly heads to one another in dismay and muttering their disapproval in quiet voices. |
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*** Chapter 5 *** Raximmon strode through the streets of Brastiva's marketplace with supreme confidence. He found that he was rather enjoying the respect and awed looks given him by all those who crossed the giant barbarian's path. He was an imposing figure in human form, and maybe it was the look in his golden eyes or perhaps the guards at the gate had spread the word, but he wasn't challenged again. Craven alerted him to the presence of the morphling, Captain Gorth. The large man had been following Rax, keeping a fair distance behind the barbarian but not trying to hide his movements at all. In fact, Captain Gorth seemed to want Rax to know he was being watched. The dragon ignored him. If he became too much of a pest, there were ways of solving that problem. Raximmon finally found the livestock section of the market by following his nose. The sight of such fine, well-fed animals made him salivate with hunger and he decided he would purchase an ox in addition to a horse. The horses shied away from his dragon-scent when he approached the paddock where they were kept; all of them went running to the opposite side of the fence and milled around nervously. He stifled a wicked laugh by grinning at the merchant instead. The horse merchant, Jeeter by name, was a small, swarthy man who looked as if he were descended from the desert nomads. He was dressed in colorful cottons and wore a small, tightly wrapped, light green turban around his fat head. His dark, beady eyes widened at the sight of the huge, red-bearded, grinning savage who was strolling up to speak with him. Jeeter bowed humbly and gave Rax a hesitant smile. "Greetings, good sir. How may I serve such a great warrior as yourself this day?" he asked, warily eyeing Rax's huge sword. Raximmon laughed and clapped the small man on the shoulder, nearly knocking him from his feet. "I need a horse. A fast one." Rax told him. "And I need one that can hold my weight. Can you help me?" As Rax spoke, he withdrew another gold coin, once more making it dance across his hands and catch the sunlight. Captain Gorth was watching the exchange with great interest and his lupine eyes narrowed a bit, studying Jeeter's reaction carefully. Upon seeing the coin, Jeeter practically fell over himself to get just the right horse for the "rich" barbarian. The horse that Rax chose was a huge sable war stallion that wanted absolutely nothing to do with the dragon. The horse reared and kept trying to pull away from him, the fear of him obvious in the flared nostrils and whites of the creature's eyes. Rax frowned and crossed his massive arms over his chest, adopting a very unhappy stance. Jeeter was utterly confused at the stallion's strange behavior, and fearing the loss of a sale, quickly dropped the price by half. Raximmon discreetly wove a charm spell on the animal and the merchant and ended up paying only three gold pieces for the finest piece of horse-flesh at the market that day. Rax purchased an ox which he tied behind the horse and calmly rode the charmed beast out of the opposite side of the city. Craven informed him that the morphling had stopped to speak to the horse vendor after Rax had gone. "He won't be a problem, Craven," the dragon assured the sword. "And if he is, then we'll let you handle him." Raximmon continued to ride in the direction of the capital city, the castle, and the dying king. He stopped after several hours, far away from prying eyes, for a lunch of raw, bloody beef. Craven fed, too. |
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Jessep's hopes of finding help were fading with the dying light of the setting sun. There was a constant hitch in his side now, and he had been forced to rest more and more often. It hurt to breathe and the shallow breaths he had been taking had given him a headache that wouldn't go away. Each time he rested, it became more of an effort to get back up and keep going. The dragonette became more trusting of him and had even nudged his leg once when he had drifted off into an uneasy sleep. He looked around and spotted a very large, old tree off in the distance. He thought he could make it there before the sun sank completely. Jessep knew he wouldn't be able to climb the tree but perhaps it would offer a bit of shelter from the elements and those nocturnal predators of the forest looking for an easy meal. He looked at Gleam and sighed heavily. "C'mon, Gleam, let's try to get to that tree before dark. Maybe there'll be some berries nearby." The prince's stomach gurgled loudly in hunger at that thought and the baby dragon cocked her smooth, copper head at him. He had lost his waterskin somewhere in the day's adventures and his thirst was worse than his hunger at the moment, but he was just too tired to care at the moment. Jessep slowly began to move towards the tree, forcing himself to take each step. Gleam followed behind him like an over-sized puppy, her deep amber eyes alertly watching the surrounding bushes. The prince had been right and they reached the trunk of the massive oak just as the sun disappeared behind the western horizon. He hobbled around the base of the tree, searching for an opening, perhaps. He had learned in his studies that sometimes very large trees like this one had cavities and nooks in their trunks where animals or people might find shelter. This one, however, was not such a tree. The rough bark around the tree's base was unbroken, but the ground in which it grew was covered with a thick, soft, spongy moss. Jessep decided that one of the deep crevices created by two of the heavy, gnarled roots would have to suffice for the night. It was getting too dark to see anything so he settled in to rest, pulling his body into as small a position as comfortably possible. Gleam watched him from a few feet away, her intelligent eyes glowing with a faint light in the impending dusk. Jessep stretched out a small arm along one of the smooth, massive roots and rested his head upon it. He closed his eyes, still breathing shallowly, and was asleep minutes later. The dragonette sat watching him for a little while longer and then tentatively approached, curling up next to him in the roots' natural cradle. She snuggled against his body heat and and rested her small, scaled head on his lap. Her tail flicked slowly like a cat's, finally coming to rest against Jessep's right foot. And that was how the prince spent his first night away from the castle: lost, injured, hungry and kept warm by the baby copper dragon who had saved him. |
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Not long before Jessep was curling up for sleep, his horse Misty came trotting back to the castle stables. One of the younger groomsmen spotted the riderless animal and recognized it as the prince's personal steed. He alerted Rawlins, the castle's weaponsmaster, at once. Everyone knew that the old warrior had become something of a surrogate father for the prince since the king had fallen so ill. Rawlins was a toughened veteran of about fifty winters. He stood a rugged 5'11", weighed a solid 227 lbs. and his deeply tanned skin had the look of cured leather. He had salt and pepper hair cropped short in military fashion, and a neatly trimmed, matching beard and mustache. His eyebrows were the only thing about the weaponsmaster that would simply not conform to his rigid standards. Like his beard and mustache, they too were dark and light, but they grew in wiry, uncontrollable bristles, giving the man a perpetually gruff appearance. They deepened in a frown as the groomsman approached him. Rawlins's dark blue eyes became stormy with concern as the boy informed him of the missing prince's returned horse. "Alright, I'll take care of it." He briskly dismissed the young man, whose freckled face had paled under his mop of red hair at having to deliver such news to Rawlins. As he was leaving, the elder man stopped him with his voice. "And Otis, no word of this to anyone else. Understood?" Otis nodded so fast it seemed that his head would come off of his scrawny neck, then ran back to the relative quiet and safety of the stables, where he couldn't feel Rawlins's piercing eyes upon him. Rawlins turned and strode through the castle's expansive courtyard to the barracks, where his office and bunk were located. He didn't believe in holding himself above the men he trained and commanded. He sparred with them, fought beside them, lived and ate among them. Rawlins felt that the men under him would more readily respect someone they believed to be "one of their own". And he was right. His second in command, Luke, was sitting at the barrack's only desk, a large, heavy wood monstrosity which doubled as a war table when needed. Luke was a younger man in his mid-thirties, mild-mannered and polite, with longer-than-approved, light brown hair and large, kind brown eyes. He was going over the day's duty roster when Rawlins came scowling into the building. As the weaponsmaster entered, Luke glanced up and immediately noted the worried expression in the commander's eyes. "What's wrong?" He asked. He rose and started to put away his paper-work, starting to reach for his sword-belt. Rawlins waved him to the seat again and came over to lean heavily against the edge of the desk. The elder man rubbed a hand against the back of his neck, which had tensed since Otis had told him the news. He looked at Luke and spoke in a low, anxiety-laden voice. "Jessep's gone missing and Otis just told me that Misty came back to the stables on her own, with no sign of the boy." Luke's brows raised in surprise and his brown eyes flicked to the window with alarm, where he could see the sun setting behind the castle walls. Both men knew it was unlike the prince to not be safely inside the walls by sundown. Coupled with the fact that his horse had returned without him, there was cause enough to worry. Luke's gaze soon matched the concerned look of his superior. "What do you want to do?" He asked the weaponsmaster. Rawlins closed his eyes, still frowning, and shook his head to himself. A muscle twitched in his jaw and he loosed a tired sigh. "I'm going out looking for him," he started to say, but Luke interrupted him. "---But sir, it's almost dark!" Luke started to point out the obvious. Rawlins slammed his fist on the desk, making Luke jump, and indicating just how worried the commander was. "I know it, and that's why I'm going after him, Luke!" He fixed Luke with a serious glance. "This goes no further than you and I. Understand? We can't have word getting around the castle that he's gone. It would cause more problems than we need right now, especially with His Majesty's condition." Luke nodded his agreement. "Alright, but where are you going to look for him? He could be anywhere." Then another thought occurred to the younger man and his expression grew a shade more alarmed. "And what in Kryteka do I tell Miss Beth?" This last question was asked with a definite whine, as he knew that Jessep's gentle but hefty nursemaid would be down at the barracks soon enough, demanding to know what trouble Rawlins had gotten her charge into to cause him to miss supper. Rawlins gave a disgruntled snort and his tone suggested he didn't care what Luke told the overbearing woman, as long as it wasn't the truth. "Make up something. Tell her I've taken him on a camping trip or that he's running around here somewhere, whatever. Just don't tell her that he's missing, for King's sake." He walked over to his bunk and the locked chest at the foot of it, ignoring the pained look that Luke shot him. "But...but..." Luke sputtered and then rubbed his face in misery when he realized he was going to have to face Miss Beth and cover his commander's arse at the same time, all by himself. He began to go over his 'story' in his mind while Rawlins packed a small sack with a few essentials and grabbed his traveling cloak from a peg near the door. The weaponsmaster stopped in the doorway long enough to study his second's miserable face. "Can you do this, Luke?" He asked him seriously, trying not to think about what might happen if he couldn't find Jessep. Luke looked at Rawlins and nodded unhappily. "Aye," he answered grimly. "I can, and will, but you better find him, Sir, or it's likely we'll both be out of a job...or worse." |
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Luke hurried him through the door with an impatient wave and Rawlins left without another word. He fastened his cloak around his throat and strode with determination to the stables, where he saddled Smoke, his dark grey warhorse, with the speed and efficiency born of doing it hundreds of times. Rawlins noticed Otis watching him from a nearby stall with a combination of curiosity and deductive reasoning, and the older man decided that a little more incentive might be necessary to keep Jessep's current state of absentia a secret. The commander detested bribery in any form, but thought it might be prudent at this point. He mounted Smoke and trotted him over to stop in front of the boy. Rawlins reached into a small leather pouch at his waist and plucked a silver piece from inside it. He did his best to smile kindly at Otis, but the weaponsmaster's fierce reputation was solid, and all of the young men at the castle, with the exception of the prince, both feared and respected him. Otis peered at him uneasily from beneath his red bangs, his light green eyes shining with trepidation. "Here," Rawlins said, tossing him the coin. "Go home early and breathe not a word about Misty coming back without him. If I hear one stray comment about it when I return, I'll know exactly where to look for the cause, now, won't I?" The young groom's eyes grew large and he quickly pocketed the unexpected wealth. "Yessir, Mr. Rawlins, sir," he nodded, anxious to please. "I won't say nothin' to nobody, sir!" Rawlins returned a curt nod and rode Smoke the length of the stables until he reached Misty's stall. He noted with satisfaction that she had already been unsaddled, curried and fed a good ration of oats. If nothing else, Otis knew how to care for the animals. He dismounted and began to examine Jessep's horse and tack for any clue as to where the mare had been. The warrior had an idea of where to start looking for the prince, but he was hoping his hunch would prove wrong. The crushed ash and soot around Misty's fetlocks told him with a sinking feeling that he had guessed correctly...she had been through RidgeShadow, the only town within a league which had been burnt and rebuilt several times...and that meant that Jessep had gone to the dragon's lair! "Damn you, boy!" he swore and then remounted his horse, sending him at a thundering gallop through the castle gates and into the coming darkness beyond. He raced against the setting sun, trying to somehow escape the guilt that his conscience insisted was his. Rawlisn had been the one, after all, who had told Jessep about the power of the talismanic fang just a few days prior. He had seen the interest and determination flash in the boy's eyes and berated himself for not anticipating that Jessep would try something. The elder man knew he wouldn't reach the mountainside by dark but drove Smoke relentlessly, in a panic that he might be inadvertently responsible for the prince's death. He rode the several hours to RidgeShadow at a furious pace spawned by parental fear, hoping that he wasn't already too late. |
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The dragon eggs which Shalgathra had collected, enchanted and sent back began to hatch in the next few days. All of the eggs had come from dragons with good tendencies. Included among them were white, silver, gold, copper, bronze, brown, earth, water and sky dragon eggs. All of the hatchlings inside were females, and Gnartagien's dark magic had warped the dragonettes in varying degrees. All had been changed with the black dragon's spells so that they would eventually turn to evil. Some had been rendered sterile by Gnartagien's and the witch's interference. Shalgathra's goal was to eradicate all good dragon-kind and elevate the evil ones. The reds, blacks, greens, blues and fire dragons would become more prolific without the meddling of those dragons of good and noble inclinations. Eventually, without fertile females, the good dragon races would simply die out. The old witch hoped that in the process she would be able to ally with more of the wicked dragon-kin and become even more powerful. The hag's search for power, and especially the ancient magics used by the huge lizards, had often brought her into contact with them. She was well-known among the Wyrm High Council for trapping dragons and then gleaning their spells. Shalgathra was also adept at using dragon magic, a feat which only a handful of humans had ever been able to claim. If the good, elder dragons of the Council would have had any idea of what the witch was up to, there would have been no magic powerful enough to have saved her. Her hut, her pet spiders, and most likely the entire swamp would have been reduced to a smoking, charred crater by the wrath of the good dragons. Gnartagien, of course, wasn't concerned with informing any of them, although dragon laws demanded that he report the human's plans to the elders of the Council, even if it were only to the evil ones. The younger black saw no need, however, relishing the idea of his pact with the witch that promised such delicious meals. They were meals he would most likely have to share or give up entirely if any of his brethren knew about them. So Gnartagien kept Shalgathra's secret, and when the ensorceled eggs began to hatch, the only immediate sign that the hatchlings were different were their unusual black markings... |
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